Page 343 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 2

When she didn't answer, he gently pressed again. "Tabby, have you ever had a Daddy? Apart from your father, I mean."

She nodded and sucked. “You,” she said around her thumb.

"Was it too scary, the thought that Daddy might have to spank your bottom? Is that why you wanted to run away?"

She shook her head.

"Look at me." He waited until she did. That thumb of hers was going to ruin both her bandages and her pretty smile. He took it from her mouth. "What stopped you?"

She tried to suck her thumb again, but he wouldn't let her. Flopping from her side to her back, she half growled and half whined.

Picking up the spatula, he caught her arm and rolled her far enough onto her side for him to lay a single sharp smack to the tops of each thigh.

She yelped and grabbed the backs of her legs. "No more smacking!"

"That depends entirely on you. Are you going to be good now?"

She broke down. "No!" she bawled. "I'm not good, I'm bad."

Unbuttoned the cuffs on his uniform shirt, he took it off completely, followed by his bulletproof vest. He sat down next to her, still dressed in pants, boots and the white t-shirt that kept his vest from chaffing him. Tucking the spatula up against his hip, he said, "Remember you said that, because your insistence on labeling yourself as bad just earned you a very sound, bare bottom spanking once you're back to feeling better."

"No!" She slapped the mattress space between them.

He was neither moved, nor impressed. “Do you need a taste of Daddy’s belt? I have no problem adding extra licks. You’re still not going to get them tonight, no matter what you do or how naughty you try to behave.”

She looked at him and he could see the bafflement in her eyes. She didn’t want to be mad. She didn’t want to yell at him. He wondered if she even knew what she wanted. Someone stronger than her, perhaps. Someone ready, willing and able to take her in this place she was in and give her what she needed, no matter what that was. No matter how badly she was hurt.

Someone who would ignore everything else except the defiance she was offering and punish her, for the inherent badness of her soul.

“You’re not my Daddy,” she whispered, anger fading as her voice pitched a little higher. “You’re not.”

“I’m the Daddy who’s here,” he replied. “I will continue to be here for as long as you need me to be. I don’t expect you to trust that now, and frankly, I expect you might feel entirely different about all this in the morning. And that’s okay, we’ll deal with that when it happens.”

“How?” she asked.

“One step at a time.” He held out his hand. “Come here.”

She looked at his hand, and then his lap. Hesitantly, she took his hand and let herself be drawn to him. If she thought he was going to spank her, then surely she would be disappointed. Because instead of drawing her to lie over his waiting knees, he drew her to sit on his lap instead.

“Close your eyes,” he coaxed. “You’re very tired.”

Her breathing hitched as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her snugly to him. “I’m very sleepy.”

Her Little was back in her voice, and he linked how all the tense lines in her small body reluctantly relaxed as he softly sang her every lullabye he knew. He never stopped rocking. He never stopped caressing her auburn hair, rubbing her small back, and kissing the top of her head.

It was his favorite part of being a Daddy Dom—the deepening intimacy, the comfort needed and given, the trust placed in him to always know what was best and to, in turn, do his best to provide it.

He gently took her thumb from her mouth when she tried to suck it, and eventually, she fell asleep in his arms without it. She had the cutest, softest, little snore.

The likelihood of this becoming a relationship was so unbelievably slim. Nothing that he had seen from her tonight was her in her normal state. Eventually, she was going to recover and when she did, she would be back in a good place from which to tackle what happened to her.

Tomorrow morning, he was going to arrest his brother. He would contact the proper authorities and begin the process of investigating his activities. He would help her give her statement. He would help to keep her safe while he ran down everyone responsible for the abuse she’d suffered.

And he hadn’t one time abused the power of his occupation.

Little Tabitha whimpered, turning her face into his chest.

“Shh,” he whispered, stroking her back. “Daddy’s here. You’re safe.”

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